


Give Me An Angle That I Haven't Tried Before

by annemari



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Kink Exploration, M/M, Overeating, Stuffing, belly love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 03:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annemari/pseuds/annemari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey blinks sleepily, then reaches for his glasses. He might as well text some people now that he's awake. He grabs his phone and rolls over onto his back. The phone tells him it's around three.</p><p>"Fuck, I'm so full," Ray says, grunting as he takes his jacket off. Mikey looks over and yeah, even in just the low light coming from the bedside lamp, he can see that Ray's stomach is bigger than usual, slightly rounded out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me An Angle That I Haven't Tried Before

**Author's Note:**

> This is super self-indulgent. Really, completely self-indulgent. Thanks so much to **anoneknewmoose** for looking this over for me!  <3 Title from _Don't Give Up_ by The Whitest Boy Alive.
> 
> WARNING: This fic contains sexual objectification of overeating. It could be triggering to anyone with issues surrounding food, weight, eating, or eating disorders. Please tread carefully.

Mikey's not sure what time it is when Ray stumbles into the hotel room. He went to bed early, tired and worn out from the two shows in two days while Frank and Gerard headed toward their room and the others went out.

Mikey can tell that Ray's trying to be silent, so he says, "I'm awake."

Ray curses and then turns on the bedside light. "Shit, Mikey, you scared me. Did I wake you? I'm sorry."

Mikey shrugs one shoulder and adjusts the pillow under his head. "I was up."

"Where's Frank?" Ray asks. "I thought you were rooming with Gerard?" Mikey raises his eyebrows and Ray colors a little. "Oh. Right."

Mikey watches as Ray goes into the bathroom, listens to him pee and wash his hands. Ray comes back out after just a moment. Mikey blinks. "Are you not gonna shower?" Ray's not quite at Frank levels of cleanliness, but.

"Too tired," Ray says. "Fuck it."

Mikey snorts. "Where were you?"

"With Bob and Dewees and the rest," Ray says. "Fuck, there was so much food."

Mikey makes an inquisitive noise.

"There was some sort of bet," Ray says. "I don't even know. Anyway, they won, like, a shit-ton of pizza. God, I can't remember the last time I've eaten so much fucking pizza."

"Nice," Mikey says, because, really, who doesn't love endless amounts of pizza.

He blinks sleepily, then reaches for his glasses. He might as well text some people now that he's awake. He grabs his phone and rolls over onto his back. The phone tells him it's around three.

"Fuck, I'm so full," Ray says, grunting as he takes his jacket off. Mikey looks over and yeah, even in just the low light coming from the bedside lamp, he can see that Ray's stomach is bigger than usual, slightly rounded out. 

He watches idly as Ray pulls off his shirt and unbuttons his jeans, pulls the zipper down. His belly spills out and Mikey blinks as he sees it's even bigger than it looked to him at first. He swallows hard and looks away, down at his phone. Ray doesn't usually undress in front of him. They don't usually share the hotel room, either, but Mikey thinks they might for a bit, now, at least.

Mikey can hear Ray struggling with his jeans, breathing heavily. He bites his lip and doesn't look up until he hears Ray crawling into bed. He catches sight of Ray pulling the covers over himself, but that's it.

"I'm gonna turn off the light, okay," Ray says.

Mikey nods, then says, "Yeah." No one has texted him back in the last five minutes anyway, he might as well try to go back to sleep.

He puts his phone and glasses on the bedside table and curls up under the covers again. He lies awake for a bit, listening to Ray breathe.

~

It feels like Mikey's been asleep for a mere five minutes when there's a knock on the door and Brian's voice calling out for them to get the fuck up. Mikey blinks, and pushes himself to sit up on the bed, confused.

"Come on, Mikey," Ray says. "Time to go." He's already dressed and packing up the few things they have.

"Right," Mikey says slowly. "Going." He sits in bed for a brief moment and wonders if he can get away with catching maybe just five minutes more, maybe even up-right, but then Ray slams the bathroom door shut and Mikey jumps.

"Sorry," Ray says. "Come on, you can sleep on the bus."

"Oh, right," Mikey says, and throws the covers off.

The others look as half-dead as he feels when they meet up in the lobby. Frank and Gerard are leaning on each other and blinking slowly. Bob's just frowning. Gerard's murmuring something about coffee, and Mikey sympathizes. Coffee would be great right now.

"There's coffee on the bus," Brian says. "Let's fucking go."

"There's a bed on the bus," Frank says.

"A bunk," Bob corrects him.

"A horizontal space," Gerard says.

"It'll do," Frank says.

Gerard, Frank and Bob head straight for the bunks as soon as they get on the bus—Gerard doesn't even stop for coffee. Mikey watches them go and wonders if they'll head into separate bunks or not. Gerard and Frank, that is. It doesn't really matter, he decides. They seem really fucking beat, so they'll probably fall asleep anyway. And there's a rule about no sex in the bunks. _That_ they uphold, mostly.

He thinks about following them, but he's actually feeling awake now. Awake enough for coffee. Awake enough to really need coffee.

"You gonna go get some sleep?" Ray asks, and Mikey turns towards him. Ray's standing in the kitchen area, leaning against the counter, staring at the cupboard.

"Nah," Mikey says. "I'm kind of awake. Well, I need coffee. But I don't think I'll fall asleep again. You?"

Ray shakes his head, his hair bouncing. "Not sleepy either," he says. "Stomach started hurting sometime before morning. I was already up when Brian came to get us."

"And I thought you'd developed superhuman abilities," Mikey says. "Up and out of bed in five seconds or less."

"That's a pretty shitty power to have, if you're going for superheroes," Ray says. "Isn't it?"

Mikey shrugs. "It's useful."

Ray nods, and reaches up to rummage in the cupboards.

"I need coffee," Mikey says. He really needs coffee.

"Make your own coffee, dude," Ray says. "Fuck, do we not have anything—oh, here." He grabs a ginger ale and puts it on the counter. Mikey frowns for a moment, but then he remembers back to three minutes ago, oh, right. Ray said he had a stomachache.

Ray reaches for the coffee pot and Mikey's momentarily distracted again. "Dude, I love you," Mikey says.

Ray rolls his eyes and sets the pot going. "Maybe I'm making coffee for myself."

"You're not," Mikey says. "You said you were feeling sick." He trails his eyes over Ray's body, gaze settling on his mid-section. Ray's wearing sweats and a long t-shirt and they look really tight on him, definitely tighter than usual.

"Your stomach's still pretty big," Mikey says, blinking slowly. Ray straightens his back and sucks his stomach in a little; Mikey can see his body going tense. Fuck. Mikey's still half asleep, he hasn't even had any coffee yet. He shouldn't be allowed to talk before coffee.

"I didn't—" he starts, but Ray shakes his head and grabs his ginger ale.

"We can't all be skinny like you," Ray says, but he pinches Mikey's side in passing, and not hard, so Mikey hopes he's not really mad, or hurt.

Mikey grabs his coffee—sweet, sweet coffee—and trails Ray out into the lounge. Ray groans when he sits down, and Mikey bites his lip. It shouldn't be hot, he knows. Ray's hurting, and Mikey feels like shit, but Ray's belly is stretching out his shirt and he's grunting as he wriggles on the couch and it's really fucking hot.

Fuck, he didn't even know he was into something like this. (He did know that he was into Ray. It was just more of a background thing. Something he tried not to think about, because, well, Ray. It's not like he was gonna ever go for someone like Mikey.)

"Wanna watch something?" Ray asks, turning on the TV.

Mikey shrugs one shoulder. "Sure." He's not really paying attention, doesn't even notice what Ray picks out. Instead he watches Ray from the corner of his eye.

Ray takes only a few sips of the ginger ale before putting the bottle down on the floor. He groans softly as he sits back up. Mikey tries to focus on the TV, keeps drinking his coffee.

He goes back to stealing glances, though, eyes darting to Ray sitting beside him. Ray has a hand on his stomach, right above his navel, and he's idly rubbing it. His eyebrows are drawn together, and it's clear he's not feeling too good.

"Can I help?" Mikey blurts out. 

Ray throws him a look. "Help with what?"

Mikey shrugs. "I don't know," he says. He chews on his bottom lip. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"Oh," Ray says. "No, I'm fine."

Mikey blinks, then raises his eyebrows. Ray sounds pretty convincing, but Mikey doesn't miss the way, _can't_ miss the way Ray's hand's digging into his stomach. He looks Ray in the eye and tilts his head in question.

Ray huffs. "I'm fine, okay. It's just a stomachache."

Mikey rolls his eyes and turns back to the TV. "Fine."

He finishes his coffee and gets up to take the cup to the kitchen area. He considers getting more, but when he looks back at Ray he's resting his head against the back of the couch and rubbing his belly in large circles. Mikey's stomach goes hot and tight.

He leaves the cup—he can barely swallow right now—and walks back to the couch. Ray straightens up quickly when he sees Mikey coming, merely rests his hand on his belly.

Mikey lets out a shallow breath and sits back down, tries to focus on the movie. He still can't tell what it is, can't concentrate. He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around legs, sneaks another look at Ray.

He's pretty sure Ray's belly is actually bigger than it was last night. He didn't really get a good look at it last night, though, and fuck, now he's thinking about it in detail. And staring. He quickly looks up at Ray's face; Ray's attention seems to be on the TV, thankfully. Mikey looks away and focuses on the movie and tries not to think about how it probably makes sense for Ray's stomach to be bigger now, how the pizza must be expanding, heavy in Ray's gut.

Ray shifts and his arm brushes against Mikey's. Mikey hears his stomach gurgle, barely audible over the TV. He bites his lip. Fuck, he's getting hard. He should just leave, go to his bunk and try to sleep (or jerk off, really, Mikey's only one man). He's about to move when Ray lets out a whimper, so quiet that Mikey's sure he didn't mean for Mikey to hear. Mikey freezes.

"Ray?"

"Huh?" Ray says in the least convincing manner ever. "What?"

Mikey turns to him, bites his lip again. Fuck it, he's gonna do it. "Come on, let me help." He doesn't wait for an answer; he shuffles around until he's sitting sideways on the couch, and reaches out for Ray's stomach.

"Mikey, what—"

Mikey presses on the top of Ray's stomach, gently enough so as to not upset him, and smoothes his hand down the side.

"I saw you," he says. "Doing this. I can help."

"Mikey..."

"Can I?" Mikey asks, glancing up. Ray looks taken aback, but he nods when their eyes meet. "Okay," Mikey says.

He doesn't really have the right angle, though. He throws his leg over Ray's and settles on Ray's thighs, far enough back that he has access to Ray's belly. Ray's strong enough to handle it, Mikey knows. Ray gasps when Mikey presses in with both hands and the sound goes straight to Mikey's dick. He shifts a little and hopes Ray doesn't notice.

There's a voice in the back of his head, telling him that he should just _leave_ , but he's too far gone now, and Ray's not pushing him away. He doesn't want to leave. He's making Ray feel better, he tells himself. He's allowed to be here, because Ray's not pushing him away.

"Mikey, what are you—"

Mikey pauses. "Is it too much?" He swallows. "Don't puke on me, dude."

Ray huffs and his hands settle on Mikey's waist. Fuck, his hands are so big and warm, even through Mikey's shirt. Mikey suppresses a shiver.

"This is super weird, Mikey," Ray says, and Mikey ducks his head. He goes to pull back, but Ray tightens his hold on Mikey's waist. "Wait."

Mikey looks up and fuck, Ray's breathing hard and there's a blush high on his cheeks.

"It feels really good," Ray says, going even more red in the face.

"Oh," Mikey says. "That's good." He clears his throat. "It's, uh, helping?"

Ray nods, his hair bouncing. "It still hurts," he says. "But it's helping. But you can stop if you want to. I mean, you don't need to—oh."

Mikey gives him a small smile and starts rubbing around the area where he'd pressed in, right below Ray's navel. Ray makes a pleased sound and Mikey rubs harder, focusing on just one spot and pressing in a little harder.

Ray's stomach is tight, hard to the touch and Mikey starts rubbing in large circles, hoping it will help him relax.

The bus swerves and Mikey loses his balance, tilts forward into Ray's space. He manages to throw up his hands and grasp Ray's shoulders before he knocks their foreheads together.

"Shit," he curses, and then freezes. He's face to face with Ray; Ray's eyes are big and boring right into him. His hands are on Mikey's waist, holding on tight. His mouth is open, just a little, and Mikey leans forward and kisses him. It's like he can't not, he can't fight it. He doesn't want to.

Ray's lips are soft and warm and it takes him a second, but then he's kissing back, he's kissing Mikey back. Mikey lets out a low whine and scrambles to get closer to Ray, to keep kissing him. He scoots forward and Ray gasps when Mikey presses against his stomach.

"Wait, shit, Mikey," Ray gasps and moves one hand to Mikey's chest.

Mikey pulls back immediately, ready to apologize, fuck, what was he _thinking_ , but Ray doesn't let him go far. He keeps one hand on Mikey's waist and drops the other to his own stomach. Oh.

"Sorry," Mikey says. His breathing's ragged and he's hard, dick straining against the zipper of his jeans.

Ray shakes his head. "It's fine, just—I need a minute."

Mikey strokes the side of Ray's belly and Ray shivers. He shifts a little under Mikey's thighs and his stomach gurgles. Mikey bites his lip. It shouldn't be hot.

Ray rests his head on the back of the couch, breathing heavily, his throat exposed. "Fuck," he pants out. "Fuck, Mikey. You—ow, fuck."

He lifts his head and presses in on his belly, fingers spread over the middle of it, then clutches it tightly.

Mikey frowns and rubs the side of Ray's belly again. "Ray?"

"Fine," Ray says. "Fuck, no, I'm fine." The blush in his cheeks is rising again. "Fuck, I shouldn't have eaten that much. I probably look like an idiot."

"Yes," Mikey deadpans. "That's why I kissed you." He gets a little thrill out of saying that, fuck.

Ray rolls his eyes and looks to the side, away from Mikey. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, and his stomach rises and falls under Mikey's hand.

Mikey bites his lip. "I think you look hot."

Ray looks back at him, eyes wide. "What?"

Mikey shrugs and looks down, at his hand resting on Ray's belly. "I think you look hot. I mean, all the time, of course, but also right now. I'm sorry."

Ray squeezes his side and Mikey looks up. "Don't," Ray says, swallowing. "Don't be sorry."

Mikey lets out a harsh breath, frustrated and sad. "I'm getting off on you hurting," he says bluntly. "That's pretty fucked up."

Ray looks confused. "But you're—you're making me feel better, really."

"But I still—" Mikey breaks off and sighs.

Ray tilts his head and takes a deep breath. "Do you really—you—you really like this? I mean, me?"

Mikey looks up at Ray from over his glasses and shrugs again. "I'm into you."

"Okay," Ray says, nodding. Mikey pushes his glasses up. Ray looks a little bewildered. "And this?"

Mikey shifts, feeling uneasy. "I'm into this too, I guess."

"Okay," Ray says again.

"Yeah?" Mikey asks.

"Yeah," Ray says and smiles, and Mikey lets out a relieved breath. He fucking loves Ray's smile.

Ray grabs Mikey's elbow and tugs Mikey forward, even though he still looks a bit surprised and hesitant. Mikey goes easily and presses his lips to Ray's, licks his way into Ray's mouth, then pulls back to nip at Ray's bottom lip before going back for a proper, long kiss. Ray moans and Mikey presses closer, his stomach touching Ray's, and fuck, Mikey wants to get Ray naked, to just _look_ at him. To run his hands over Ray's big, exposed belly.

"I want," Mikey says, and gasps when Ray moves his lips to Mikey's neck. "I want to, Ray, can I?" He brings his hands down to the hem of Ray's shirt, tries to pull it up.

"Really?" Ray asks, mouth against Mikey's neck, right under his ear.

Mikey shivers. "Please." He pulls back and tugs on Ray's shirt. Ray raises his eyebrows, but he lifts his arms and lets Mikey pull the shirt off.

"Fuck," Mikey gasps, too loud, and Ray shushes him. They both look toward the bunk area.

"No sex on the bus," Ray says. "I mean—I don't—"

"No sex in the _bunks_ ," Mikey corrects.

Ray shoots him a look and Mikey shrugs. "I've heard Gerard and Frank, anyway," Mikey says. Everyone else is either asleep or they're just pretending they can't hear them. Mikey's fine with either, really, if it means he can get his hands on Ray.

"Fuck," he says again and presses his palms to Ray's stomach. His skin is warm and smooth, stretched over his bloated belly. It feels amazing, but Mikey needs more.

Mikey gets up, and kneels down between Ray's legs. Ray gasps; it makes his belly quiver. The waistband of his sweatpants is digging into his lower belly so Mikey pulls it down and tries not to whimper at the sight of the exposed skin. He traces the mark left by the elastic with his fingertips.

"Fuck, Mikey."

Mikey looks up. Ray is flushed, breathing heavily. "Can I blow you?"

Ray stares, eyes widening. "I—I mean, yeah, but my stomach."

"Does it still hurt?" Mikey asks, and gently runs his fingers over it.

"A bit," Ray admits. "I just feel so full."

Mikey splays his fingers over the side of Ray's belly and rubs the heel of his palm against it. He leans closer and presses his lips to it, right next to the line of hair. Ray lifts out a soft gasp.

It looks a bit smaller, Mikey thinks. But when he presses his forehead against it and listens, he can hear Ray's poor gut rumbling, as though the pizza is only now finally digesting.

Mikey pulls back. "Are you gonna be sick?"

Ray shakes his head. "Don't feel sick."

"Okay," Mikey says. "I'll be quick. I just really want to blow you."

Ray nods, eyes wide but growing heated. Mikey reaches for the waistband again. Ray has to lift his hips off the couch for Mikey to pull his sweats down; he falls back to the couch with a groan and digs his hand into his stomach.

Mikey pats Ray's lower belly absentmindedly, gaze focused on Ray's dick, already hard and flushed.

"Fuck, Ray," Mikey says. "You're fucking huge."

Ray grumbles, but when Mikey looks up at him he seems pleased. "I _feel_ fucking huge," he says, and Mikey scoffs.

"Told you," he says, pressing into Ray's soft lower belly. "I think it's hot. I mean, I know I'm a weirdo, but—"

"You're not, Mikey," Ray says. "Well. Sometimes you are, yeah, but in the good way."

Mikey snorts. "Can we get back to me sucking your dick?"

"Please," Ray says, voice straining, and Mikey wraps his hand around the base of Ray's dick and leans down, takes the head into his mouth. Ray's leaking and Mikey licks, tasting and teasing, before he goes down. His forehead presses against Ray's belly, stopping him before he can swallow Ray's entire dick. He can taste precome, salty in his mouth.

He can hear Ray moaning with pleasure and his belly's gurgling softly, and Mikey pulls off to press his lips to it, smoothes his free hand over the side of it.

Ray digs his fingers into Mikey's hair. "Fuck, Mikey, so good. Come on, please."

Mikey smirks, pleased, and takes Ray in his mouth again. Ray throws his head back and groans as Mikey sucks him down, swallowing around the head.

It doesn't take long for Mikey to get Ray to the edge, to the point where he's just fucking _babbling_ at Mikey, fingers tightly grasping Mikey's hair. Mikey keeps having these split-seconds where he remembers that they need to be quiet, that the guys might hear them, but all they do is make him shiver and moan around Ray's dick.

He pictures what they look like right now: Ray trying to stifle groans, spread out on the couch with his stomach big, exposed; Mikey between his legs, sucking him off, free hand still rubbing Ray's belly.

Ray pulls on his hair, pulls him off, "Fuck, fuck, Mikey, gonna—"

Mikey sits back on his heels, gives Ray's cock a couple of strokes, and then Ray's coming, shooting all over his belly. Ray moans, and presses his hand to his bloated stomach, and fuck, it's so fucking hot.

"Fuck," Mikey groans, curling up and breathing harshly. He's gonna come in his pants, like a fucking teenager.

"Mikey, come—come on," Ray says, and Mikey doesn't even fucking bother, he just gets up and presses himself against Ray's belly and leans down to kiss him. It's Ray who reaches for his jeans, and he's barely gotten the zipper open before he's reaching in and wrapping his hand around Mikey's dick.

Mikey jerks, humping Ray's hand desperately. He slumps forward and buries his face in Ray's neck, groaning against it as he comes.

Fuck, next time he is totally rubbing off on Ray's stomach.

He squeezes his eyes shut and nuzzles further into Ray's neck when he realizes he's thinking about next time.

"Fuck," Ray mumbles. "Fuck, Mikey." He's stroking Mikey back, his breathing labored, and Mikey realizes he must be crushing Ray. Well, not really crushing him, but making him feel uncomfortable, probably, pressed up against Ray's stomach like that.

He pulls back and gulps in a breath, and another. Fuck, they're a mess. There's come all over Ray's stomach, and the front of Mikey's jeans, and they're both sweaty and panting.

Mikey gets up on shaky feet and takes deep breaths. He gets some napkins and gently wipes at the mess on Ray's belly. He doesn't really manage to get most of it, but it will do. Ray's stomach is still gurgling, a low sound, and Mikey presses a kiss to it, feeling bad. He really hopes he didn't make Ray feel more sick.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, looking up at Ray.

Ray blinks at him. His face is flushed, his hair looking even more wild than usual. "Are you kidding?" he asks.

Mikey shrugs. "I—"

"That was—really fucking amazing, Mikey," Ray says.

"Oh," Mikey says. "Yeah, I mean—yeah."

Ray beams at him and holds out a hand. "Come here." Mikey throws the napkins somewhere in the direction of the trashcan, and settles down next to Ray, body angled towards him. Ray wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him closer.

"How's your stomach?" Mikey asks, resting his hand on Ray's exposed belly.

Ray shrugs. "It's okay," he says. "A bit upset."

Mikey makes a sympathetic sound and strokes it gently.

Ray hums and tilts his head towards Mikey, closes his eyes. "You should keep doing that."

"Yeah?" Mikey asks, smiling.

Ray blinks his eyes open and grins back. "Yeah."

"Okay," Mikey says. Ray closes his eyes again and rests his head on Mikey's shoulder, and Mikey goes back to rubbing Ray's belly as the bus rolls on.


End file.
